I see you.

I watched a YouTube documentary around Christmas on the crisis of homeless people. In that documentary, between interviews, the narrator spoke on how this population consists of everyday people who fell on hard financial times. One of the biggest takeaways for me was when the narrator spoke on the urge for most people in this situation to know that they’re seen. To be acknowledged.

I grew up in Detroit, Michigan while it was in the depth of its depression. The downtown streets were loitered with trash, feces, and the smells of strong pee and cheap potent alcohol. I grew up riding the buses and walking the streets to get places with my mom. As one of six kids, we were taught not to look strangers in the eye, keep your head high and never give money to strangers. Giving money to the homeless became a big deal after I turned 8. At church I was taught to love others as I wanted to be loved by God, but in the real world I was taught that compassion was reserved for those you know, not strangers.

Growing up money was a hard thing to come by, so we took advantage of it when we could. By age 15, I was bringing in my own money. At age 16, I branched out on my own, and started paying my own bills and supporting my grown siblings. It occurred to me that somehow whenever I gave any money to a homeless person, I was condemned for doing it yet when I gave money to the church or my family I was commended. Giving to the church and family was something I was taught I had to do but giving to the homeless was something I always wanted to.

There’s a stigma around homeless people that they did something to deserve being on the street. My family and friends would say things like they would only take the money I gave to go buy drugs and alcohol. And “they should take better care of themselves, gain some dignity, take a shower and get a job instead of begging”. I always responded by simply saying after the money left my hands it was theirs. I knew what I gave for and that’s all that mattered to me. Now 11 years later, it’s almost like when you take medication for too long and your body has become immune to it. I still know why I do it, but I don’t get the same warm feelings that I used to get when I did it. But one day brought it all back into prospective for me.

One particularly memorable incident occurred last summer, while I was going through an Outback Steakhouse cycle. From June until August, I decided to treat myself with a meal once every pay period, for me that’s twice a month. One July afternoon, I felt the awfully familiar desire for a medium rare steak and loaded baked potato, so I ordered my food online and went to go pick it up.

As I arrived at a light at an intersection, I saw a homeless man with a sign that read “I just want a Burger and Fries”. My first thought was I can stop and get some cash for him on my way back. Then I heard my inner voice say “well, why not give him what he asked for?” So, I thought I can go pick him up some McDonalds or Wendy’s. It wasn’t too far out of my way; it’d be cheap and what he’d asked for. As I turned the corner to the restaurant though it came to me, why not just check to see if Outback has burger and fries, it’d be a little better and more fulfilling than fast food. So, I put on my mask, entered the carryout section, and asked the lady if they sold burgers and fries. She confirmed. After 15 minutes, I was back on the road headed home.

When I completed a U-turn and handed him the steak burger and fries, there are no words I can use today to describe the look of overwhelming gratitude in his eyes as he told me that was going to be the best meal he’d had in a while. He thanked me profusely enough to embarrass me. And as I drove home that day, I was prouder than I’d been in a long time from giving money to a homeless person or even paying for a room for a night or two.

I’d just given this man a moment that made him feel seen and heard instead of dismissed and disregarded. That meant something to him and in turn that meant something to me. I don’t think I would’ve garnered that same reaction from him, had I handed him 20 dollars instead of the 12 dollars that I paid for the meal. Neither do I believe that McDonalds or Wendy’s would have gotten the same reaction because he probably gets it often, since it’s cheaper and more available. That day I didn’t have to go even slightly out of my way to accommodate this man. All I had to do was give a little time, a little money, and make a few short U-turns.

That moment reminded me why all those years ago I began giving to homeless people. It only takes one person to give a little hope by showing a little compassion. Everyone just wants someone to see them for who they are and hear what they are saying. I drove home prouder than a peacock that day, with my Outback Steakhouse as a reward.